A Mother's Rage
by diva.gonzo
Summary: 2 May 1998. Molly Weasley answers the call to fight at Hogwarts along with the rest of the family. This is the battle, through her eyes, along with the consequences of her actions. Appearances by the rest of the family, in addition to others. Dark, dramatic, and painful. Multiple character death; battle scenes; more included (Wish there was a T plus rating)
1. Failure

A Mother's fury

Chapter 1 - Failure

Breathe. In. Out. It's quite simple really, she thought. Automatic – no need for conscious control. I've been breathing for almost 48 years. Automatic since that first one.

Red hair moved, and she looked at her daughter. Her baby, her miniature, her reason for being, was getting up. Ginny didn't bother to hide, not her. She stalked off. She knew her youngest was prideful, and didn't want to show that side of her to the rest of the hall. She remembered the day her daughter had changed, hardened her skin against the antics and taunts her brothers threw at her. She might be a girl, but they didn't treat her like one. She was like a boy, except on the outside. Even the year of help she got after that first year at school did nothing but harden her against her family. That was the first time that Molly felt like a failure.

Unfortunately, she honestly could care less at that moment. Life had turned on a knut, and Cerce knew where it would land after tonight. She had failed, terribly.

Part of her knew that anything could be possible when she and Arthur answered the call – more akin to a distress call than anything else on the Wireless: _Come to Hogsmeade_ said the voice through the wireless. Desperate, it sounded.

They had lived through the first Wizarding war, 17 years prior. The heart was still as strong for fighting for what was right, even if life got in the way of the body being able. She didn't expect the whole family, Ginny included, to answer the call. Even the flashback of hearing from Moody about Fabian and Gideon did nothing to temper her thirst for righteous justice. If anything, it sharpened her resolve, so no more would have to pay. Their deaths were still salt in the wound, those same seventeen years later.

Now, she fought to breathe with the proverbial hippogriff on her chest. Her mischief maker, her rambunctious silly boy, her Fred lay dead at her feet, a fatality of a wall blown away by an errant curse. Not even the return of Percy, the prodigal son, could bring her beloved Fred back. If she weren't numb, she would be screaming.

She looked over, in rudimentary comprehension, at Bill, holding Fleur. For once, she mused, she looked human rather than Veela. Maybe it was her disheveled hair, or the bloodstains on her trousers, or the soot on her hands. No matter. She stood by him still, even after he was attacked. That was enough. She wouldn't admit it, but Fleur was good for Bill.

On the ground knelt Ron, Hermione at his side, holding him down by his ragged jumper, the agony evident on his face. But what tore her soul to shreds was Fred's twin George – where he was rambunctious, George was mellow, where Fred was silly, George was thoughtful – holding the other half of his life. Charlie was trying to console Percy, who brought him down from that seventh floor battlement where the wall had caved in. Her sons, united in soul wrenching grief. She had no solace to offer them.

She looked up and saw that her daughter had returned. Anger corrupted the face of her cherub. Tear streaks mar her features through the soot on her face. Bright red hair, fierce expression on her face, magic crackling all around her. Not even the blood on her hands affects her.

"Is that your blood?" inquired Molly.

"No," a curt reply.

"Ginny, why is there blood on your hands?"

"I was out helping Neville."

"Oh."

Her middle child lay dead almost at her feet. She could offer neither comfort nor solace for them right now. Even her rock, her reason for living, her husband, was silent. She had none to give, since she had none for herself. Arthur stood next to her, holding her, yet not present with her.

She looked up, and the scene had changed. Seconds or days, she couldn't tell. Ron and Hermione left. Bill led Fleur away too. The rest of them were gathered around, from Ginny fighting her tears, to Percy who openly wept. Percy carried Fred that last time. Percy bawled like a baby carrying his brother down those flights of stairs. Her prodigal son cried while carrying his younger brother. Molly's throat was raw from her scream.

All that remained was George, and Charlie, and Percy. "Oh dear Gaia and Circe." She muttered. She wasn't bothered that anyone heard her. She looked up from her poor baby, trying to comprehend the madness around them. The smoke was an afterthought to the carnage the room showed.

Remus was laid out next to Tonks covered in blood and grime. Not even a mom for a month, and Tonks was lying dead at her feet. I wonder how, she thought. No matter really. Another orphaned child.

Another sheet held a student, one she couldn't place. It looked small. The line kept going, towards the doorway. And that was just the dead. They didn't even look like war casualties. The gore, gone before they came in, whisked away. Most of them looked like they were sleeping. Even her Fred still had a grin on his face. Only Remus looked like he had been fighting. His battered tweed coat was torn, covered in soot stains and blood.

'So many dead, so many injured. Why are there so many here?' She couldn't fathom the numbers. Smoke infused, grime encrusted students and adults alike, who came to the clarion call. Molly was in no shape to help the wounded. Now if they needed a meal, or a cuppa, she could help. Her spells were limited to first year ones for healing. Those charms were not her gift. Anyone who needed basic healing got it on the spot from someone else. Everyone present needed Madame Pomfrey or Professor Slughorn. Only Horace or Poppy handed the severe ones. All she could do was administer potions, bring cups of water, change bandages, simple things that were too below an over-worked medi-witch and a potions master.

Too many to stand and fight, and not nearly enough to withstand the onslaught. There was no try.

She vaguely heard a voice, one that was a walking nightmare. _Harry Potter is dead!_

Oh dear Gaia! She stood there, in shock, when the first screams started. Another one of her children – not of her own loins, but the one she took in, the one whom she fought to protect the most. The one child who needed her love more than most of her own.

She had failed again.

She fainted.


	2. Rage

Chapter 2: Rage

She opened her eyes, looking into the blue ones of her husband. "Mollywobbles. You gotta get up."

Confusion reigned in her mind. She looked around, wondering why she was in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. 'Why did she smell smoke? Why were there people crying?' she thought.

Reality harshly slapped her. She instantly hardened her expression when she thought of the monsters that would harm children. Her two brothers, dead not quite seventeen years, still haunted her. Two of hers were now dead, and she would be damned if those bastards would take any more. Her family had paid too high of a price to let it go any further.

She heard her husband working to clear the room of casualties and also the remains. She watched the sheet covered remains float to the nook behind the front dais. She took the initiative to hustle the wounded to the hospital wing, praying to whatever deity would listen that he would look after those who couldn't take after themselves.

One glance in the Hospital wing told her that she should stay there, to protect those kids. Every bed was filled, including the spaces between. Those who were able to help did, including a few of the students.

The building shook. "Oh dear Lord!" she thought while making sure that everyone was in the wing. Chunks of ceiling crashed in the outer hallway. Mortar dust coated her cloak. Children were crying from the hospital wing.

"We have it Molly. Go!" shouted Pomona. Horace was right behind her, helping Poppy tend to the wounded and the injured who couldn't fight nor evacuate. The look Pomona gave her was of defiance – and understanding. A Hufflepuff to her toenails, Molly thought. She would be the bulwark if necessary. Merlin help her it wouldn't be.

She raced on her aching legs, hoping to protect the rest of her brood. Gideon and Fabian demanded it. Fred would expect no less. 'I hope I'm not too late.'

The maelstrom that churned in the Great Hall was sickening. Neville was dueling with Ron against that mutant Fenir – while Bill and Fleur were back to back, taking on their own fight against Rookwood and Avery. Arthur and Percy were hip deep in their own duel with Thickenesse and Yaxley. But her eyes fell on the battle in front of her.

Her baby, her precious daughter, was shoulder to shoulder with her two best friends fighting that wench Bellatrix. How that monster was able to take on those three and continue was beyond comprehension. Three of the strongest young witches, and she was still standing.

The expression on the girls' faces was frightening. Luna – that sweet, precious, special child, one that would never harm a soul, was snarling. And Hermione, that brilliant, passionate girl, was fury in the flesh. Her wand work was beautiful and terrifying to behold. The variety of spells she was throwing belayed the power and discipline behind it, focused with anger she could only guess at. She was dueling like Molly had only seen out of Dumbledore.

But her Baby, her outgoing, headstrong daughter, the one child who was never afraid of anything, was on her right shoulder, throwing everything she could muster at that hag. Fear gripped her, seeing the maniacal glee on her precious daughter's face. She knew that look and understood instantly. Her brother was dead, and so was the love of her life. She was facing death and embracing it. Ginny fought like she had nothing to live for.

She took off as fast as she could run, throwing her patchwork cloak off of her shoulders. She was hardened by grief, and reinforced by rage. 'Not again, damn it.'

A flash of green passed right by her daughter's ear. The monster inside roared. _"Not my daughter, you bitch!" _she screamed. _"Out of my way!"_

She flung the three girls outside of the fight radius, and found an outlet for her fury. She was too focused on the monster in front of her to realize that she performed wandless magic. This fight was to the death. She wasn't going to lose another to these monsters. If she didn't protect her daughter, no one would. There was no trying to it: She would kill her.

Spells flew fast as thought. The stones around their feet were melting from the brewing conflagration, yet the chill of the surrounding air didn't touch the witch's battle. Fighting is hot work, so the Aurors have said. The two locked in that battled wouldn't have noticed.

"_What will happen to your children when I've killed you?"_ taunted Bellatrix while she was dancing around. _"When mummy has gone the same way as Freddie?"_ Dragons had more heart and compassion than the monster parading in front of her. Her only concern was the daughter in her peripheral vision.

Molly saw her chance, a slight shift in her opponent's stance, and threw everything into it. First a flick, a swish, and a stab, and she was immobilized. The witch in front of her was the first person that she truly hated with her soul. Hell, it didn't matter either way. Self-defense was always a legal explanation in time of war.

She poured all of her love, her grief, her terror into the next spell. She meant it, even if she never let it pass her lips. The butcher's bill had been expensive. Her family had paid enough. She knew in her mind that she intended to use it – intending to protect her remaining family at all costs.

A flash of green and the monster fell back, shock etched on her face for the last time.

Chaos erupted to her left. An explosion followed by bodies flying through the air. She didn't recognize that the final monster dispatched his own prey, and turned his sights on her. She couldn't fathom that she was seconds from death. All she heard was the blood pounding in her ears. The churning maelstrom surrounding her was befuddling.

She looked up, and was shielded from the full force of Voldemort and his fury. They locked eyes for a second: Voldemort in confusion, Molly in panic. 'Who shielded me?' she realized. 'I should be dead.'

"Harry!" she heard through the growing cacophony. "He's Alive!" she heard fading into echo. Only then in front of her did she see long messy black hair, eye glasses, ill-fitting robes, and a determined look on his face.

Part of her was numb to the scene before her, her primary concern was for the son she didn't bear – yet chose to make her own – circling before her, shielding the crowd, facing his duty and destiny.

She scanned the crowd, looking for her children. Breathe, she thought. Don't panic.

Ginny was behind Molly on the right. Confusion and grief were etched on her daughter's face while watching the love of her life fight his destiny. Ron was over her left shoulder, alongside Hermione, holding up Neville who had blood trickling down his head. Charlie and George was the barrier to the fallen, behind the dais. Percy and Arthur were along the back wall, keeping watch on the prisoners while Fleur and Bill were acting as a human barricade to the hallway of the hospital wing.

She reached for her daughter, refusing to believe that she was unharmed until she was in her arms, protected and safe.

"NO!" Ginny bellowed while watching the unfolding drama. "Let me go!" She wrenched free, as close to the barricade as it would allow.

The barricade dropped, yet no one dared get any closer. No one dared intrude on the circling men, awaiting their mutual destiny.

Her blood was still boiling, yet she itched. Her skin prickled. Raw unbridled magic crackled through the room, almost like she was dealing with a static riddled blanket across her skin. Comprehension for Harry was saying escaped her.

But she felt the growing apprehension. An explosion was coming, and she couldn't protect them all, not scattered throughout the room as they were. If she lost another child, she knew she wouldn't want to live another second.

"_I am the trust master of the Elder Wand."_

Molly froze, realizing what Harry just said. "Oh dear me!"

She rushed to grab Ginny, praying that she could shield her from the blast in time.

She turned Ginny around, hoping to protect her the best way she could, yet still watch what happened. Ginny fought her, refusing to be pried away from the fight in front of her.

Then it happened.

Green light hit red, and the monster fell over dead. Heartbeats, breaths made. The monster is dead. He did it. Breathe. Breathe. Blink. Breathe.

She rushed forward, following Ginny's flowing red hair, to the son before her.


	3. Condolence

A Mother's Rage

Ch.3 - Condolence

Molly sat on a bench, buoyed by her daughter while the rest of the family sat around her. Ginny on her shoulder was the only thing she felt. Her mind shut down after she cried on Harry when she saw him for the first time in nine months. Not even seeing her youngest son, nor their best friend, could hold back her raging emotions. Fred. Fabian. Gideon. Percy. Remus. Tonks. Fred.

Arthur had to pry her off of them, to let Harry breathe, and to keep Hermione from being crushed. Only her youngest son could support her at that moment without holding back.

Molly stepped away in an effort to make room for Ginny. Ginny nearly bowled Harry over in a huge hug. Not seconds later, her daughter stepped back and slapped the fire out of Harry. Satisfied, she then snogged him almost out of his shoes. 'That poor boy doesn't know if he's coming or going.' She thought after watching the new drama unfold. "Ginevra Weasley. Stop that!"

Ginny had the temerity to look at her mother without remorse.

Within minutes, Kingsley had come up to Harry, and they were having a heated discussion, all while Kingsley was being treated for his broken arm and a head wound, courtesy of You-Know-Who. They quickly agreed on something, and they left the room in a rush.

Molly's hands shook while she was holding her tepid tea cup. Her Ron, the volatile one, had kissed Hermione with a passion that she only thought of from romance novels. Yet minutes before, she saw her son dueling Greyback with a vengeance, working as a team with Longbottom.

She glanced up from her tea to see Ron and Hermione leaving their seats. That was about the only good thing out of this day – they obviously were together. 'When did my child grow into such a man?' she thought while she watched them walk out of the Hall. 'Where's Harry?' She wondered.

Molly shuddered, seeing Luna talking about blithering humdingers or something silly like that. Molly watched her, seemingly lost in her own little world yet again. Yet an hour ago, she saw that special child – one of her daughter's best friends growing up – contorted in fury at that monster. How could that precious and precocious child have that fierce of a temper, or that much rage, in such a beautiful mind?

Her mind drifted off, thinking of that horrifying moment. Three girls – an embodiment of Fire, Ice, and Earth - fighting to the death against Death Incarnate. They were merciless against a vicious monster that had no qualms for killing them.

Watching Hermione duel that cruel monster was pure terror. Her brilliance was evident in the power behind her spell work. Even working as a team with the other two younger women didn't give them an advantage. The three witch's anger at their opponent was palatable at a distance. The anger fueling their magic was powerful, potent, and easily lethal. Hermione was throwing everything she had at her – fire, ice, fury. All that power and yet it didn't matter.

She started shaking worse while replaying the memories in her head. The tremors grew violent as she focused on the green light that passed Ginny's head within an inch. Her mind warped, thinking of what if it had hit her.

Movement from the doorway tore her from her recently made memories. There stood Andromeda Tonks holding a swaddling child in her arms. Wands went up immediately upon seeing her face. It was almost a mirror image of the woman that Molly killed. Well, mirror image if the escaped convict had lived a different life.

"Stay your wands!" bellowed Minerva behind a Sonorus charm. "There will be no more killing here today! Stay your bloody wands!"

The students did as ordered, along with those closest to the door. Many a face was shameful, turning away from their reactions.

"Mum, who's that?" asked Ginny.

Molly watched Minerva pick up her robes, and strode as best as possible to the front of the Great Hall. Her pronounced limp and walking stick belayed the severity of her own injuries. She had been blown off of her feet while trying to duel Voldemort.

Molly looked at Arthur, and knew that they needed to be there too.

"That is Andromeda Tonks. Come help with little Teddy."

He nodded, and helped her up from the bench. The three remaining Weasleys followed behind McGonagall to where Mrs. Tonks was standing. "Minerva, where's Dora and Remus?"

Molly and Arthur tried to school their reactions, but were too late in hiding the knowledge.

"Oh dear Circe no…" she started out in a whisper.

Ginny rushed up and took the blanket swaddled bundle out of her hands before she could collapse to the ground. "No!" a screech went around the room, and many a head turned back to see her fall into a heap on the floor. Ginny raced from the scene with the still sleeping child.

Molly looked down, catching a glimpse of Narcissa Malfoy standing quietly a few feet away. A glance passed, and Narcissa walked up to the gathering. "Come on Andy, let's go somewhere quiet," she whispered in her sister's ear. "Hold on just a little longer." The youngest sister crooned.

It took all three women to get her up, and move the grieving widow and now bereft mother into an empty classroom right off of the main hallway. Once in, Minerva sealed it. A quick wrist movement for her wand, and a chair was transformed for Andromeda.

Arthur proffered her a glass of water, but she shook it off. "What happened?" she whispered. "What happened to my baby?"

Three sets of eyes looked at one another. Narcissa nodded at Arthur who looked at Minerva.

Arthur spoke up first, taking the lead. "Mrs. Tonks, you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you."

"Tell me anyway," she growled.

"I was up on the battlements, and saw Remus go down. Dolohov blasted him through a brick wall, and once he was down, he cast an Unforgivable curse. Remus didn't suffer."

"And Dora?" she whispered.

Molly looked up at Minerva, then to Narcissa. She felt her husband's strong hands on her shoulders.

"I was up on the next landing when I saw Dora helping an injured student. Bellatrix came across her while she was otherwise occupied."

Arthur had trouble continuing. Many a sob was heard while he tried to compose himself. "I rushed down the stairs trying to aid, but when I turned the corner, I saw Bellatrix hit her with an Unforgiveable. Your sister turned and threw another one at me then vanished." Arthur took another moment to try to convey the rest. "The student who was injured told me what happened. Bellatrix tried to kill the student – and Dora stepped in. They fought viciously, and Dora fought like a warrior. Bellatrix tried to kill the student again. Dora stepped in front and shielded her with her body, taking the killing curse."

Arthur looked up, and saw the three witches consoling the fourth in her chair. His heart broke yet again recounting the horror he witnessed.

"I rescued the student – an Astoria Greengrass from Slytherin – and took her to the Hospital wing. Once I got her there, I went back and got Dora. She and Remus are in the room behind the Great Hall dais."

"Ted. Dora. Remus. How many more have to die? How much more do we have to pay?"

Arthur looked at Narcissa. 'How to explain this one?' he thought. He was saved from the burden by the only family Andromeda had left. Narcissa moved to in front of her sister. "Andy, there was one more." Said Narcissa quietly.

"Oh who dear Cerce else?"

"Bellatrix."

Andromeda looked up through her tear stained eyes, ice blue looking at hazel. "Her too?"

"Yes, Andy. Her too."

"How?"

"I don't know. I was out of the room looking for Draco."

"I killed her." Molly whispered.

Four sets of eyes settled on Molly, who stood up from the group consoling the grieving witch. "There was fighting in the main hall. When I got back from the Hospital wing, your sister was dueling my daughter, Luna Lovegood, and Hermione Granger. She nearly killed my daughter." Molly stood up further, all of her five foot two frame allowed. Her temper flared while recalling her own payments made in blood and tears. "My brothers were killed in the last war. I lost my son earlier tonight. I thought I had lost my adopted son. When I saw her nearly kill my daughter, I stepped in."

'Breathe' she thought.

"I know she was your sister, but I couldn't let her hurt anyone else. I stepped up because there was no other choice. We dueled, and I killed her. I'm not proud of it, but I don't regret it." She knelt back down and looked at Andromeda. "I'm sorry she put me in the situation where I had to act."

Mrs. Tonks looked up, meeting weeping warm cinnamon eyes. Mourning mixed with remorse looked upon inconsolable anguish. Molly watched as Andromeda pulled herself together, like a human puzzle. Watching the change of her features was extraordinary. She was Dora's mum, but she was also a Black. Her upbringing was showing forth yet again.

She stood up, regaling in her five foot nine frame, and slapped Molly. The crack of the hand on the jaw rattled around the room. "That's for not saving my daughter!"

Then, in surprise, she collapsed onto the smaller mother, breaking completely. "And thank you for stopping my deranged sister!" she wailed.

The other two women joined in the consoling while Arthur slipped out of the room unnoticed.


	4. Grief

Chapter 4: Grief

Why Fred? Why not me?

The mantra played over in Molly mind, in cadence to the ticks of the clock on the wall. Neither would shut off, not that she was interested in turning either one off. Like life, time ticked forward and no one would bother to do anything about it. The flash of light passing by Ginny's head flashed through her mind. Four days later, and the image still made her want to vomit. Seeing Percy the prodigal child return, carrying his broken brother, tore a scream from her throat. The same throat was raw from the constant crying, weeping bitter tears for her dead child. Sadness went out the window the first body fell in front of her. Grief paralyzed when the fifth body fell before her. Anger took over when the first child's body showed up.

Images ran through her mind, flashing in front of her eyes. Cries of pain, wails for parents not present tortured her ears still. A shield maid saw too much from her position of protection. McGonagall was better suited to fight. While Minerva fought like a warrior half her age, Molly kept her protected so she could do more. They worked in tandem, Molly shielding while Minerva disarmed, incapacitated whomever they came across. Within minutes, they were drenched in sweat and estrogen, the stink of smoke and soot and blood.

Molly turned around after blasting away one of those awful acromantulas, and she was gone. Recognition tickled her. She was near the Hospital wing. Maybe she could help there. She needed to protect the children. She needed a moment to feel safe.

Safety. There was no safety to be had, at least on the grounds of Hogwarts.

She scurried in, dodging falling marble chunks and moving around scared students and adults she didn't recognize. "Anyone?"

Madame Pomfrey came over, carrying a tray of vials and bandages. "Molly! Finally someone who knows their way around a bandage. Take these to the far bed. Michael Corner is in it. Someone hit him with something, and he's still bleeding. There's a bottle of dittany and some bandages, but he's too injured to evacuate at the moment. He'll have to wait. In the next bed is Terry Boot. Someone hit him with a nasty one, and his leg is badly broken. There's a bottle of skele-gro next to his bed. He needs another dose shortly.

Molly glanced out into the hallway, and froze. Oh dear Merlin no!

Bottles crashed onto the floor, bandages careless dropped into uselessness. There stood her prodigal child, the one who broke her heart, carrying her prankster. "No!" she screamed, loud enough to alert this end of the castle.

Wobbly legs carried her forward, refusing to believe her eyes. "No dear Merlin no! Please No!"

Her eyes didn't deceive her, nor did she feel the strong arms around her. Time stopped seeing her middle child in his older brother's arms.

Molly blinked, and saw the clock on the wall in her bedroom. Nine am. Her tea was cold. She had been sitting in her rocker for three hours, trying to ignore the chimes of the day. Today would be the day when she would bury her middle child, her beloved Fred. He died with a joke on his lips, a smile on his face, and forgiveness in his heart. He was a hero, lauded by some and missed by more.

Tears fell yet again, from the flashback of that moment when she realized that he was gone, killed when carved stone crushed him, blown out of the wall from a curse. Vengeance she took upon the monster who wielded their power indiscriminately gave her no comfort. Only later that day, drinking firewhiskey laced tea did she realize that the monster she killed was the one who took her beloved Fred.

Such a monster unleashed on the world. She was a wife, and a sister, but still a monster. Dragons were less unpredictable, and more merciful. Only a true monster, housed in human flesh, would kill without regard, sowing chaos and mayhem. Her master had a purpose, while she only desired bloodshed. Her destruction, reigned down upon friend and foe alike, unleashed just to watch the battle crumble in further mayhem. A Lady of Chaos, she should have been known.

Shivers overtook her. The flash of green light that passed within an inch of Ginny's head broke the binding on her temper. All she saw was the fiend in front of her daughter. The others fighting the terror didn't register. Only her baby, her precious daughter, mattered. Her sons could take care of themselves, mostly, but her daughter was treasure, and her beloved.

A second flash of green, and the criminal was dead by Molly's own hand. No mercy received, none given. When she turned, Red slits for eyes were staring murder at her. The spell he cast bounced off a foot in front of her. Harry, her son in everything but blood, saved her. He was alive, and fulfilling his destiny. How was he still alive when she saw him dead at Hagrid's feet just a short time ago? How had he cheated death yet again?

A third flash of green, and the demon that started the carnage, the megalomaniac, was finally dead. The butcher's bill was entirely too high, yet paid in blood nonetheless. Any loss of life protecting others from atrocities was worth stopping the madness.

A breath across her ear, followed by warm dry lips on the sensitive skin behind her neck, told her that her rock is there with her. "Come dear. It's time."

She turned, and looked into those beautiful blue eyes, the ones that she will never gaze upon again. Her eyes were cried out, and yet more leaked. "I can't do it. I can't go on."

Strong arms embraced her, lending strength he didn't have. "We have to. George needs us."

"I can't. I can't face them. I failed. How can George look at me? I failed him."

"I need you. I can't face today without you."

Swollen brown eyes looked up into bruised and haunted blue ones. "I need you. Please."

She put the cold tea cup on the side table and stood up, unsure how she was going to get through the day. "For you," she whispered. "I need you too."

The house was quiet – too quiet for her liking. The tables were full, of friends and family that were still with them. Platters of Ham, roasts of beef and chicken, sweets to no end, potatoes and turnips and parsnips – yet it was quiet. The whole house and garden should have been bustling, yet –

She turned, just the mere thought catching in her throat. Fred. 'He'd have hated this – the somber gathering, the crying, and the lack of fireworks.'

George tried, with help from Lee and Angelina. They set off some Whizbangs afterwards, once the adults left. The kids laughed through their tears, remembering his antics and pranks. Muriel said it was an abomination, but Charlie said it was perfect for Fred. Molly couldn't even scold George. Just seeing his smile was a ray of sunshine on such a terrible day.

Kingsley was great, professional with a personal touch. He fought alongside him for much of the battle, keeping the reinforcements from taking the high ground. When there was a lull in the fighting, he was there, directing reinforcements and ushering the wounded out of harm's way. When the battle recommenced, he was there, on the front lines, taking the lead with Minerva and Horace against that monster.

Molly didn't notice that the three of them had been blasted off their feet, or that Harry stood to protect her from death also. Only later, when she saw Kingsley hobble up to Harry to talk immediately did she realize he had been badly injured, yet had more to do. The blood on his robes was his own, mingled with scorch marks from spells and fire. He was a mess, yet he was alive as well. She knew he was courageous, since he was an Auror, but to stand there fighting Vol –

'Dead and I can't say his name still. Can't even think it.'

Molly left the kitchen, the pitchers of pumpkin juice and water left on the kitchen table. She had to hide, if for a moment, to be able to breathe again, to hide the anguish in her soul. She stumbled over her own feet, rushing to ensconce in the scullery, where only Ginny would venture. She slid in, locking the door from the inside. The little room, cluttered with home spun yarn, dye for the colors for her sons, and her daughter, and soaps for washing their clothes, were a comfort rather than an irritant.

Her padded bench was there, in front of her sewing basket. She toddled to it, collapsing onto the hand-woven cover for it. Agonizing wails tore from her, the enormity of today crushing her once again. The horror of seeing her son covered in marble dust, lying limp in her other son's arms. The agony of witnessing her adopted son, lying in Hagrid's arms, even if that proved later to not be true. The terror of seeing her daughter nearly killed before her eyes. The unrealized fury she held for the monster in front of her, stepping into the fight to protect her child.

The tears fell like a waterfall. The pain she stifled for so long burst, and she felt the agony. Stress from the year, from hiding Harry, to worry about all of her kids, staying with Aunt Muriel because the monsters found out about Ron. Each one fell on her shoulders, threatening to crush her completely.

Ginny watched her mother slink into the kitchen. It was a wonder that her Mum was even upright after everything that happened. Molly was up before sunrise, baking loaves of bread for today. The tea that was made went untouched before her Mum slipped out of the kitchen at six. When she came down from their bedroom with Dad holding her up, she had been crying, but held it together during the services.

Ginny should have known it was a fragile facade, just long enough to endure until solitary collapse. She took after her Mum in ways she didn't want to admit. Today was the first time in days that she was too weak to stifle her own tears in front of others. Harry and Hermione didn't count when it came to being strong.

Ginny stood in the doorway of the scullery, watching Mum. Her huddled form was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. She hoped never to understand her mother's grief from burying a child. She hurt terribly, but now that there was a future, she could also hope and maybe one day love again. Poor Harry was terribly confused, from being slapped to being snogged in seconds. At least he was there today, holding her hand from the moment he came downstairs.

Hermione looked over at her. Five days gone, and she still looked horrible. Huge bruises under her eyes were the most obvious. Less noticed were the prominent cheekbones, the vicious scar on her neck, the distant expression, jumping at noises. But she stood there to help Ginny as needed with her Mum. Molly was the second Mum she needed, especially now since her parents were still away.

Hermione looked over at her, understanding what needed to be done. The men wouldn't comprehend, probably think it petty and silly, but they knew.

The two girls slipped into the scullery, locking and sealing the door behind them. The sobbing from Molly was muffled from the rest of the house once Hermione performed the spells. One last look passed between them before they approached the grieving Mum.

Four arms went around Molly with no words spoken. Ginny shouldered the brunt, gathering her Mum into her petite arms. Hermione snuggled in behind her, supporting her as best as she could. They shared in the grief as best they understand, as a brother and as a friend. Tears they thought were depleted replenished, pouring forth yet again.

Sobs turned to wails back to sobs eventually to weeping. Hiccups finally settled in. Words were said that none will remember, nor care to repeat. All that mattered was giving temporary solace and comfort to someone in desperate need for it. There would be neither recriminations nor regrets from anyone present.

Hermione conjured handkerchiefs, and handed them to the other two ladies. Red rimmed swollen eyes looked back at her, a matched pair in grief. No words were needed from them. Once eyes were wiped, and noses blown, she stood up from the pair. "There are vials of dreamless sleep potion in the cabinet. I'll go get some for you Molly. You look like you could use it."

"Thank you dear. I could use it after today."

Hermione hugged her once more, along with a kiss upon the cheek. "I'll meet you up in your room with it then. It'll be on your side table when you come to bed tonight."

Hermione turned and left, unsealing the door to the kitchen. She slipped out, and closed it behind her. Eyes were upon her, from various sets of blues, a haunted set of brown, finally settling on a set of Emerald green. She didn't hide the shadows under her eyes nor the puffiness either.

The eldest of the group got up from his comfortable recliner, making his way past Hermione into the scullery. While the rest talked, she slipped out of the parlor up the stairs to the loo, looking for the bottle of dreamless sleep. Before she could turn, warm hands and strong arms engulfed her.

"How is she?" asked the beloved boyfriend. She wanted to melt from soft kisses under her ear.

Hermione held up the vial of potion. "She's knackered."

She felt his head nod in comprehension. "Stay with me."

She whispered back. "Of course. Harry? "

She felt his lips on her pulse point, quietly muttering into her neck, "Staying on the couch, so he said."

"The sooner she gets this, the sooner I can stay."

He let her go, watching her walk out on her mission of mercy.

Molly watched as the best friend came into her bedroom, quiet as a church mouse. In her hand was a vial of clay colored potion. "Dreamless sleep potion."

Arthur came over and took it from her hands. "There is enough in there for two, for the night."

"I didn't know if you would want any as well."

"Probably be for the best."

Hermione stood there, quiet, waiting to see if there was anything else they would need.

Long arms hugged her, letting her relish the comfort she needed. "Thank you," she heard whispered on top of her head.

She stepped back, and looked at Arthur once more. Without another word, she stepped out of their room, closing the door behind her.

"Mollywobbles, time for bed, dear."

"Is all of that for me?"

"No dearest, it's just enough for both of us tonight."

"But what about – "

"The house will be fine for one night. I already spoke with the kids."

"Can we even call them kids anymore?"

"Until we pass the veil, they will always be our kids. They might not be children any longer, but they are all our kids."

Molly nodded in understanding before tipping the vial to her chapped lips. Arthur finished the potion, and they settled under the warm covers. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what, dear?"

Molly snuggled into his long arms. The lean muscles never failed to comfort her. "For being with me today."

She felt dry lips kiss her on the cheek before she fell asleep.


	5. Solace

Chapter 5: Solace

Three days since the iron quaffle settled in her stomach. Seven days, and she still couldn't really breathe. Eight days since she had a partial night's sleep. Almost ten months since she had a full night's sleep. And it seemed a lifetime of worry.

Molly opened her eyes, looking to the clock on the wall beside the bed. One in the morning she read. 'Something must have yanked me from my slumber. What was it?'

She reached over and softly laid a hand on her husband's slumbering body. Even after thirty years of marriage, she still needed the occasional reassurance of that touch. She was too tired to give into the temptation of waking him just to snuggle. 'Let him sleep. He needs it.'

She listened further while debating whether to get up and check on the kids.

'Kids. I wish they still were.' In the dead of night, she grimaced at what her memories held of the last week. Her children weren't kids anymore. Whatever innocence they had was brutally stripped from them.

_NO!_

That must have been what woke her up: Someone screaming out from a nightmare. Within seconds, she heard footfalls outside of her bedroom, racing from one room to the next. The steps are descending, and not just one set. 'Harry and Ron. Hermione must be having another nightmare.'

Molly quietly slipped from the bed and found her dressing gown where she laid it across the chair in the corner. Through the darkness she padded down to the second floor bedroom, intending to check on the kids. One glance in told her all she needed.

Blue eyes looked up at her from Hermione's camp bed. Her volatile son, the one who is so selfish, rash and occasionally tactless, was rocking his girlfriend on her bed, trying to quell the pain from her nightmare. Harry was helpless in this case, and Ginny couldn't give comfort. Molly shuddered in memory of watching Hermione unleash her anger while dueling. She knew something happened to the young witch, but had no idea what. The brilliant one, the kind hearted one, was the most tortured of the bunch.

Every night is a replay of the last one. Within two hours, she's screaming. He runs to the rescue, letting her fall asleep in his considerably longer arms. Not an hour after he leaves, she's crying again. That first night, when they were falling asleep standing up, they disappeared. When Molly saw them again, she knew they had rested well. They've not slept well since that first night when the world changed.

When Molly came down the morning after the funeral, she found Fleur and Hermione talking over tea. Once glance told her everything she needed to know – that Hermione still couldn't sleep, and Fleur was keeping her company despite the company she had in her room.

Molly is loath to change their own rules of the house, but she knows that this isn't the time to contemplate such trivial matters. She might not be her daughter, but she is her children's best friend and close enough to be a daughter.

Two others slip past Molly, intending to leave. She knows that they can't sleep either. Their insomnia is plain on their faces, and evident in their behavior. "Mum, just quit. Let'em stay with her; they 're dead on their feet."

Those words were a verbal slap. Molly looked at her daughter, the one who had no problem fighting her. Her baby, the most pragmatic of the bunch, was the voice of reason. 'She's right. They look horrible.' Molly looked back at her son, trying to make eye contact. He was too busy consoling Hermione to notice his mum. Her sobs penetrated the quiet of the house. Her anguish was painful to listen to, even as numb as Molly still is.

Instead, she slipped into the bedroom, being quiet so she didn't disturb the kids. "Keep the door open, and your trousers on, and you can stay the night with her. Understand?"

Her giant of a son nodded, and she turned to leave. She knew that her Ron never broke his promises.

Molly went downstairs to the kitchen, intending to be somewhat useful since she was wide awake now.

'Since I'm up, I might as well make the biscuits and bread.'

She had a houseful yet again, and those who bothered to eat anything would appreciate fresh baked bread for morning toast and her ever voracious son Ron would eat his weight in biscuits if she let him. As painfully thin as the four youngest were, they needed fattening up.

Her kids were obvious a mess. Ron was already eating them out of house and home. Ginny got by on toast and tea at breakfast, wouldn't come in for lunch, and barely touched her dinner. She tried cajoling the other two, but Harry barely ate at times, and Hermione was even worse. It was a miracle if she had anything to eat at all. She would subsist on tea and a piece of toast all day if she had her way. Not even the temptation of homemade sweets, puddings, or cakes affected her. She was the thinnest of the bunch.

At least they were mindful enough to help offer with the dishes in the kitchen, nor give her any grief for any of the chores she asked of them, or any complaints for thing things she asked them to do. Ron least of all would grouse about chores. Before they left, he would complain the most. Now, he would jump to it with nary a look. The four of them were barely functioning, and as docile as a house elf. That one fact scared Molly more than the screams from the night terrors they all had.

Molly took out the necessary ingredients for the batches of biscuits. She could whip those up quickly while working on the loaves of bread for the day. Within minutes, the new biscuit dough was in the cooling cabinet, and yesterday's dough was out, ready for cutting and baking. A flick of her wand and four pans of biscuits flew into the oven to bake.

'Wonder where my daughter went to? She loves helping me bake the daily bread.'

Molly looked in the parlor, and saw Harry fast asleep on the couch. His messy head tucked out of the quilt she kept there. Molly then went into the den, and found Ginny asleep in Arthur's recliner. One flick of her wand, and she was covered in the homemade afghan, sleeping as best as possible.

Once the youngest were settled, she went back to the kitchen to start proofing of the daily bread.

"Mobby, wake up Mobby!"

"Hush Fabs. I'm busy."

"Busy sleeping in your tea, from the looks of it." Said a second similar voice in her other ear.

Molly looked up from the table in front of her, feeling the cold teacup in her hands. Sitting across from her was Fabian and his twin, Gideon.

"Oh come now; Why do you look like an Inferi?"

"You look worse than when Avery cursed me from behind, that coward."

"Honestly, Mobbles, can't you even do a proper glamour? I thought you learned better from Mum before you left Hogwarts."

"Hush Gid. I'll have you know that Fred died and I've been miserable."

"Oh quit your theatrics, Mum. That's my job."

She felt Fred's hug before she could turn around and see his smiling face.

"Oh my Fred!"

She felt the healing tears fall, not caring that the others would certainly take the mickey out of her for it.

"And you call yourself a Prewett. Crying like a hosepipe. That ruddy niece of ours shows less waterworks than you do."

"Fabs, You'd think that after 46 years of our antics along with our namesake here, she'd have learned to laugh instead of cry."

"Pity that she's still just a girl under that dragonhide she calls skin." Fab replied

"Honestly, Mum, would you quit crying? I look like I took a swim in the pond in my kit."

Molly stood there, holding onto her son for dear life. She couldn't understand why he, along with her brothers, was standing in her kitchen taking the mickey out of her instead of consoling her.

She sobbed through Fred's jacket. "But you died, all of you."

Fabian had a retort, always the first one to speak up. "Everyone dies at some point, Mobbles."

"'Cept that twit Nicholas Flamel." Gideon replied back.

"Sure glad that Harry made him come along. We've been waiting forever to prank him," said Fabian.

Gideon chimed back in. "Stodgy prat he is."

"And Dumbledore. Honestly, you'd think he would do more than wear something other than pink robes every day," said Fred. "All he needs now is a rainbow scarf to go along with them."

Molly could barely keep up with the conversation, from Fred back to Fabian. "He said he felt free for the first time in his life, and wanted to show off his new wardrobe."

Onto Gideon, the commentator. "Gah. Dumbledore, a nancy boy. Who'd have thought?"

Back to Fred, smirking like the day he sold his first skiving snack box. "Merlin certainly did. He's still laughing at those dull robes he wore in real life, and the ones he is sporting now."

"Really Mum, he's as colorful as you are," Fabian chimed back in. "He's almost dashing in magenta and lilac."

Peals of laughter permeated her presence. Molly looked up from the shoulder she had been leaning on, changing from sobbing to laughter. It was the first time in what felt like years that she could honestly laugh. The weight on her chest was still there, but her three jesters knew how to make her laugh.

She looked up, looking worse for wear.

"Hello Molly," said a soft spoken voice from across the table.

Her gaze fell onto emerald eyes. They were the same, yet different from the set asleep in the parlour. "Lily!"

She felt another hug from her other side, and looked over. There sat James, hugging her like she was his best friend. She melted into his warm embrace. His hug was the best one yet.

"Lily. James. What are you doing here?"

James spoke up first. "Fred mentioned a spot of tea with you this morning. So we thought we'd pop over for a second. Dumbledore wanted to come as well, but he was afraid you'd hex his John Thomas to the third afterlife. He knew you're raging about how he manipulated everything, and is now scared of you. So, I left Remus, Sirius, and Tonks to keep an eye on a few of the younger ones who joined us."

"Pipe down Potter. It's not like we can take the next year talking with Molly. Her family needs her too."

James has the decency to do as asked. Lily wanted to laugh. He rarely did as asked, even now. "So, we wanted to thank you for taking care of Harry since we couldn't. You've been such a good Mum for him."

Molly felt four arms cradling her in a warm hug. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to giggle like an addled schoolgirl. Her chalice was running over.

"We talked with him when he went to confront Riddle. Your influence on him was paramount, and obvious. After everything my barmy sister did to him –"

"Or more like didn't do for him, that bint!" interrupted James.

"Or didn't do for him, you were there to be a Mum for him. You and Arthur are so good to him, and for him –"

"Helped him become the man he is now."

"Potter. Shut it. I'm talking." Her glare was reminiscent of Harry's. "So thank you for opening your arms, your heart, and family to him. We appreciate it. We can never repay you for your love."

"So, now that Evans here is done waxing eloquence –"

"Hush Potter!"

"Well, we want to help you out too, since we can never repay you for Harry. It's not like he's an Ickle firstie, but we'll look after Fred for you."

"Us too Mobby." Two sets of short red hair were nodding vigorously.

"Not like we won't get in trouble with him, innit?" said Gideon.

"Merlin's still mad at everyone after that prank we pulled on him," replied Fabian.

"And I don't think he's quit coughing up Phoenix feathers an hour after I got here." Said Fred

"And Fred got back at Dumbledore. He charmed his pants into hedgehog quills!" retorted Fabian. "Imagine having to pull those out of some tender bits. I think even that git Snape smiled once he saw what was happening."

Molly almost hurt herself laughing at that comment. "I told him that was for having Umbridge at the school our last year!" commented Fred.

"But that was because Fred remembered you shrieking like a banshee with what all happened to Harry fifth year. He didn't have any puking pustiles with him to give that to him. So, charmed hedgehog quills had to suffice." said Gideon.

"I wanted to get Snape too, but Evans here said that Severus paid everything back in full for helping in his own way," retorted James. "Doesn't mean that Moony or Padfoot won't have something up their sleeve, but she told me off for even thinking of trying anything. Smarmy Head Girl."

"Now you see what I face, Molly," said Lily quietly. "I have a slew of silly men here to keep up with, and the only one who can help is Tonks, and she's as bad if not worse than Potter here. Goodness knows Moony sure isn't much help reigning in the rest of them."

Tears of joy were streaming down her face even while smiling so hard her face was hurting. She wanted to bottle this moment forever, feeling the emotional salve across her torn and fractured soul.

Molly looked up at the five others at her table. She felt the seconds slipping away. "Will I see all of you again?"

James leaned over, and gave her another hug. "We've never left. But we have to leave shortly. Your family needs you more than we do."

Molly felt the kiss on her cheek and another on her forehead. She then watched as James got up and stood in the doorway. Molly knew he was waiting for his soul mate. She then looked across the table at Lily Potter and her sad smile. "Look after Harry. He's been through so much, and to choose to come back, he's bound to question it on occasion. Help him understand."

"What are you on about Lily?"

"One day, Harry'll tell you. He's like a turtle – and will come out when he's ready. You're not the one who can push him. You're not his soul mate. Just help him understand when he's ready to confide in you."

"But I don't – "

"I know, but you will. It will be like phoenix song."

One more squeeze on her calloused hands, and Lily went to James standing in the doorway. Not a second passed, and arms and lips melded.

"Oi! Stop with the display, you twits!"

Lily looked back at the rest at the table, and flashed her award winning smile. Her face lit up like a Christmas display and her laugh reverberated as they walked out the door.

"Those two still can't keep their hands off of one another," said Gideon.

"Rather pathetic really," retorted Fred.

"Bloody annoying," answered Fabian.

She looked at her brothers remaining, seeing their bright eyes and infectious smiles. "I supposed you two rascals need to leave also."

"Only when Ickle Freddiekins does. We promised," said both of her brothers.

"I didn't get to say goodbye, dear. To any of you."

"We know, Mum. We know you hurt for all of us, but we're great, honestly."

"Molly – "

Molly looked up while gazing at the same brown eyes she shared with the rest of them. "Quit mourning us. Start living for the rest of them. Especially George," said Fabian seriously. "My namesake needs you more than I do."

She felt the hug, leaning into it like her life depended on it. The lump in her throat from earlier grew astronomically. "I can't lose you again."

"You have to let us go, Mobbles. I know it hurts, but the rest of the family need you. Quit mourning us. Go fight like hell for them."

"We'll still be here, watching. I'm sure that Gred here will be more than willing to prank Forge in the shop from time to time."

"If I'm not there, he can be a world class prat at times," smiled Fred next to her. "So I'll be around, just so I can throw a few fanged whizbangs at his head."

"See? We'll be around."

Molly wanted to smile but the tears were flowing for anything other than a grimace.

"Look, Mum, no more crying after today. I said Goodbye, but it's really until I see you again. I've got my Uncles here for fun, and the Potters for looking after me. I'm in great hands."

Molly looked up from her hug, burnt caramel eyes looking back at her, smiling like the salesman and prankster he was. "I love you."

"Love you too Mum."

Fred, along with Gideon and Fabian, stood up from the table, making their way to the door. Three heads turned back to her from the doorway. Gideon smiled, mirroring the other two. "If you wait a minute, Mobby, you'll hear the fireworks we set under Snape's bed. The git earned it, from all of us."

"Yea, so tell Harry to look after Ginny and tell Ron –"chortled Fabian

"- to hurry the bloody hell up. Hermione isn't getting any younger!" smirked Fred from the doorway.

Molly waved as the remaining three left her kitchen. She stood there, letting the tears fall unabashed.

_Crash_

Molly looked up from the stove to see George hopping around on one foot while cursing like a Chinese fireball. "George Fabian, you stop that!" she hissed then it turned into a huge smile. She wiped her eyes while he was still hopping around the kitchen nursing his painfully sore foot. 'He did promise fireworks.'

"Sorry Mum. I kicked the chair," as he plopped down into Arthur's chair at the head of the table. "It hurts!"

She wobbled around the table to where George sat down, and gave him a fierce hug.

"Mum, stop, can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry honey." She stepped back from him, trying to inquire without words. "Tea and toast?"

"Sure."

Molly went to work at the stove, smiling for the first time in what felt like a lifetime of grief.

"Mum, why the smiles?"

Molly glanced over her shoulder at her son – the one who needed her to live the most. She handed him his tea cup made just how he liked it: A drop of milk and two sugars.

"Just realized that I've still got a lot of living to do."


End file.
